


Splintered Apart

by madness_on_the_milano



Series: The Flora Colossi and the Enhanced Procyonid [5]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Adorable Groot (Marvel), Angst and Feels, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Love Confessions, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-26 16:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15005003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madness_on_the_milano/pseuds/madness_on_the_milano
Summary: Rocket has no idea what he is meant to do with himself after Groot dies. Despite his friend's reassurance seconds before his untimely demise, he doesn't see how he can escape a lonely future. However, the lunatics he and Groot somehow wound up befriending seem to have other ideas for him.





	1. Groot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmilliaGryphon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilliaGryphon/gifts), [grootiez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grootiez/gifts).



  
Groot watched Quill walking over, Rocket unconscious in his arms. He was surprisingly unsurprised. Peter had shown himself to be caring towards Rocket since shortly after their arrival at the Kyln. He'd seen Rocket's cybernetics and hadn't even breathed a word about them, hadn't looked at him with disgust or pity or anything. Groot knew this because Rocket had told him.

"Peter might be a good friend." Groot had pointed out.

"The only thing Quill is any good for is the 40,000 units." Rocket had said and that had been the end of that conversation.

But then had been the argument in the loud bar on Knowhere. Peter hadn't walked away, he'd not called Rocket names. He'd helped, he'd cared, he'd talked him down. And not too long after that, Rocket had finally confessed to thinking of him and Gamora, who was as good as she was scary, as being friends. _Their friends._ And Peter was making sure Rocket was okay because that's what friends did. Groot looked around for Gamora because she was a good person and he liked her for it even if she had cut off his arms so viciously. He noticed Drax, lying unconscious and felt a tremor of fear he'd only ever felt for Rocket before. Drax was breathing. Rocket was breathing. And the ship Rocket had smashed into the Dark Aster in an effort to kill Ronan was falling to the ground.

As Rocket would say, they were all fucked.

He had to do something. If it was just himself and Rocket, he could grab him and hold him and wrap around millions of sturdy hard branches. It would injure him badly, perhaps it would slightly harm Rocket despite his better intentions, but they could both survive this. But now there were three people Groot couldn't bear to see die. Three good, kind people who treated Rocket nicely, who understood him, who cared for him, who trusted him, who defended him, who respected him. They would love him just like Groot did.

He didn't want to die. He knew he would, he knew this was the only way to keep his friends who he loved, Rocket who he cherished alive. How ironic that Rocket had thought for the past three years that he would die first, only for this to happen. But, selfishly, Groot was rather glad that he would not have to witness his family dying for the second time in his life. He wanted Rocket to live, be happy with the new family Groot was entrusting him with. It was just that he was going to miss Rocket so very much. He watched his friend who Peter was looking down at Rocket with sudden, sharp, painful pity as he realised what Groot was doing.

"He knows." Groot thought to himself as he extended his branches. "Peter knows that Rocket is going to wake up and know what I'm doing. He knows how badly this will hurt him."

As if on cue, Rocket twitched and his eyes opened. They became more alert as he took in what was going on. "Groot..." he whispered. "Groot..."

It was hard work building a cocoon in such a short amount of time. Groot found anchors within the ship to secure himself in an extra effort to protect his friends and prayed that it would be enough. All the while, he kept staring at Rocket, willing him to understand that yes, he knew. He knew that this would cause him more pain than Gavaar had ever inflicted upon him. He was sorry that, of all people, he was going to be the one to hurt him most. He loved him and would never ever stop, not even in death.

The external part was complete. Groot gently took his eyes off Rocket and began entwining vines around Gamora and Peter's waists to hold them steady. Drax, he put vines around everywhere, his arms, his legs, his waist. One vine he wrapped around his hand in case he felt frightened and then he grew leaves to provide comfort both in scent and texture, taking care to provide Drax with the most. Finally, he provided his golden light in the form of his fireflies and it was ready. His death and their lives prepared for.

"No, Groot!" Rocket cried and it hurt Groot to hear the desperation in his voice. On his right eyebrow was a painful looking cut, but Groot focused instead on his eyes. Even though he faced death, seeing those eyes, the eyes of his best friend, helped to comfort him. "You can't!" Rocket gripped slim branches which protruded from his chest and held tightly to them. "You'll _die."_

Groot gazed into Rocket's eyes. They were turning wet and it was clear that Rocket knew that there was no turning back now. This was it, the end for Groot, and Rocket knew it. Yet he still hoped for a reprieve, a chance to keep him. Rocket had never been able to say he loved him, even though he had tried many, many times. But Groot had known he did. He knew now that he did. Rocket's eyes almost spoke to him and they told him that he loved Groot with every inch of his very being.

"Why are you doing this? _Why?"_

Groot couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear to see those tears and the cut made him very unhappy to look at. He wiped away the tears with a spare branch and rubbed the cut as if he could heal it from love alone. "I know I am about to leave, but I am not leaving you alone in this universe. I would never do that, not to you. You may not have me, but you have Gamora to understand you. Drax to defend you. Peter to be the one to guide you. You have us all to love you, for we are your forest and you are ours. I love you for always and we will meet again, I promise. I'll wait for you in the afterworld and my love will be waiting."

A choking sob tore itself out of Rocket and he jumped up, wrapping his arms around his neck. He buried his face into his folded arms, his entire body shaking and Groot felt a tear slide down his own face, knowing that he was the reason Rocket's heart was shattering. Then, in a sudden movement, Rocket pulled away, though he was still hugging him so tightly. He took several deep gasping breaths.

"He's trying to be brave for me." Groot realised and he felt a wave of love for Rocket which decimated his remaining tears as though they had never existed.

"I love you." Rocket whispered and Groot felt something inside him ripple and bloom. After nearly six years, the obvious feeling, all those hopeful attempts at speaking the words, Rocket had finally managed it. _"I love you."_

There was a loud metallic screeching sound and Groot wrapped branches around Rocket's waist to hold him closer. Rocket's 'I love you's became more urgent, more rigid as he held in his tears and as Groot's branches, his body, became torn away, he knew only one things, two incredibly important things.

Rocket definitely loved him.

Rocket would have a family to love him and take care of him on Groot's behalf until they were reunited in the afterworld.


	2. Drax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope I've done Drax credit here. He was not an easy chap to write, it must be said, but I had to involve him!

 

It did, of course, occur to Drax that he had not asked Rocket if he wanted to share a room. But he had not asked and Rocket had not requested his own space, therefore Drax thought nothing of it.  
Lesser men would have either ignored or mocked the creature - no, no! Drax was not to call Rocket anything pertaining to his animalistic appearance. He knew that. He needed to work harder on his memory to avoid upsetting his friend, and he resolved to. Now what had he been thinking?

Yes, he knew that lesser men would have been tempted to hurt Rocket further. "Now you understand" they might have said. But Drax was not deliberately cruel for the sake of being cruel. Rocket had not destroyed his life as Ronan had the day he had stolen Kamaria and Hovat's precious, beautiful lives from them. In fact, Drax had understood his point through the emotional hurt. Rocket had been correct in saying that there was no need to meet death of the innocent and loved with the deaths of more people who were innocent and loved. He had simply chosen a very harshly spoken way of stating it.

And then he had seen him sitting on the pale stone, crying and grief-stricken, holding part of the dumb tree in his hands, a group of Xandarians watching him without actually doing anything and Drax had known that he needed to act. Rocket had taken the twig to his face to gently touch it with his cheek and the action reminded Drax, with an accompanying jab of pain in his chest, of Kamaria holding her stuffed sword to her face when she was scared or sad.

It was true, Drax had not known initially what to do. Rocket was surly and easily wronged and they had fought so bitterly. Drax had been concerned that he might face a new attack of words that would cause more pain, but he had sat beside him regardless. He was a father and he knew what he was to do. He had been about to put a hand on his back, but then he recalled the sight of scarring and metals in the pink flesh of his friend's back after their daring escape from the Kyln, so had put his hand on the only other place on Rocket's body he felt comfortable touching. His pleasantly soft head. He had gently petted his head, knowing that it was wrong because this was how one treated a pet, a tamed animal and Rocket was not an animal and nor was he tame. Rocket had been so tense for a short time, but then he had calmed down and accepted the touches. Drax had an instinctual feeling that Rocket had enjoyed them, but he would be unlikely to ever confess this truth.

Now, he was lying on the expensive bed in the opulent accommodation provided by Xandar, Rocket curled in a ball on the comforter, an apt name for an item that smelled like lavender. He was not sleeping, instead resting. For all the night, he had not slept and nor had Drax. He did not want to unintentionally abandon his friend in case he was needed. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughtless musings and he looked up as it opened. It was Quill with Gamora and he had brought breakfast with him. There was something different about them both and he soon knew what. Their clothing had changed from the handsome red of the Ravagers clothing (although Drax wasn't truly fond of the fabric. It chafed) and into the deeply coloured blue of Xandar. Gamora wore a loose tunic, the sleeves tight and long. Quill struck a foolish pose, arms outstretched, as he showed off the black jacket he had acquired. "How hot are we?"

"If you are hot, you should be wearing less layers." Drax informed him. He did not know how Quill had managed to survive to adulthood, he truly did not.

"No, Drax, I mean... Never mind. Look!" Peter held up the platter he had brought with him. "They sent us breakfast!"

Gamora put several dark piles of clothing on their bed, by Drax's feet. "And clothes. They figured we'd like a change."

Figured. To add up figures. To add up several situations - they needed a shower and could not wear the same dirty, tight clothing they had worn. Drax felt prideful at his ability to figure that particular nuance and picked up his new pants. There was a vest which he chose to ignore.

Quill was looking at Rocket. There was clear hesitation in his eyes, but he reached out, his peach fingertips brushing over Rocket's arm. "Rocket?"

There was no answer. Gamora crouched down, her dark eyes gazing into Rocket's. "He's catatonic," she said softly. "He won't respond for a while."

"Oh shit," Quill murmured, rubbing his jaw. His incisors nibbled at his bottom lip, his brow furrowed. "Does he know we're here?"

"Yes, he knows we're here. He can hear us too." This last part was said with a stern glare from the Zen-Whoberian and Drax understood what she was silently saying. Be polite or she would gut them all.

"What does being catatonic mean?" Quill asked, his voice so quiet it became a light mumble Drax could barely hear.

"It means you become unresponsive." Gamora glanced at Rocket and her tone was apologetic as she added; "Passive."

No one could ever honestly accuse Rocket of being passive, yet that is what he was as Drax watched him helplessly for any signs of sudden improvement. None came and he sighed. "How long will this affliction last?"

"I don't know." Gamora met his eyes and he could feel the sympathy radiating from her. "It could be a while, so we just need to be there. Help him. And don't talk about him like he isn't here."

"Of course we won't." Peter said confidently. "Rocket, we'll save you some breakfast for later, okay? I'll hide it where Drax won't steal it."

"I would not do such a thing!" Drax protested, shocked that Peter would think he could do something so mean. He chose a yellow plum from the large plate and hummed approvingly at the sweet taste.

"You got a sweet tooth, Drax?"

Drax licked his tongue over all of his teeth and shook his head. He frowned, not knowing what Peter had exactly meant. "How can a tooth be sweet? Is this normal for your biology?"  
  
"Oh, man." Peter moved to put his hand over his face and then stopped. He shook his head. "A sweet tooth means that you have a taste, a liking, for things that are sweet."

"Oh." It was still a strange saying, but Drax found he quite enjoyed it. "Yes, I indeed have this sweet tooth." He left the other plums for Rocket, figuring that he might get more use out of them. If not, Drax could eat them.

"Spending time with you is going to be a huge learning experience, Peter." Gamora said and Drax nodded agreeably. How odd that this daughter of Thanos was the one person he found himself in understanding with the most.

"Aww, thanks, Gamora!"

Drax was not sure that Gamora had meant it as a compliment, but this was a thought he decided to keep to himself for a time. After all, why bring discord to an otherwise harmonious morning?

* * *

 

Peter vanished for something he claimed was of great importance, leaving Drax with his two new friends for companions. Gamora groaned several minutes after Quill had left, her hands moving to rub her back, smoothing and crumpling the fabric of her tunic. Drax frowned, feeling concern for the Zen-Whoberian. "What is troubling you?"

"My spine," Gamora explained. "It took a large hit when we landed on Xandar."

"You could have cracked a vertebrae. Will you go to a doctor?"

Gamora huffed, the corner of her lips turning upward, giving her a smile tinged with unamused rage. "It's unbreakable." she said and she turned up her tunic to reveal the smooth green of her back. It was littered with blotched bruising which darkened her skin and made it painful to look at. Along her spine were little shiny silver buttons. She did not flinch or attack when he touched her back, but Drax did not need to see her face to know that there was pain etched onto her features.

"Who did this to you?" Drax asked, his voice soft and low. Deep down, he knew the answer, yet he prayed that he was wrong.

"Thanos." Gamora breathed, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I was a child. He told me this would make me strong."

And she had believed him, Drax realised. She had been a small, innocent girl who had been abducted, forced into becoming something she was not. And now she was a strong, brave, admittedly wounded, woman who wanted to break free of the one who had tortured her and made her call him her father. "Gamora... You are strong, with or without those things. Think of what you have done."

Gamora tossed her hair back from her face. "I have. I do. I'll never forget."

Drax took his hand off of her back and moved it to her shoulder, allowing the tunic to fall back down to cover the small circles of metal. "The past does not matter now. You have us."

Gamora touched his knuckles with fingertips which felt remarkably delicate and soft for such a fearsome being. "You too?"

"Of course. It was wrong of me to blame you for the crimes committed by Ronan. It was wrong to assume he had the honour of being your family."

"You're a good friend, Drax."

"As are you. I understand that you pulled me to safety before Ronan's ship crashed." She had cared enough to protect his life, this green woman and he would not forget it. 

Gamora's head turned sharply so she faced Rocket, even though he had not moved or spoken. "We'll talk about that later. Not now."

Peter chose that moment to return, a square black box held under his arm. In his left hand, he was carrying a handful of what Drax knew to be cassettes. He showed them off, all five tapes, and then placed them casually on the dresser. "Check this out! We can play music on this thing. They showed me how to set this thing up. Where should we put it?"

Drax eyed it uncertainly. "Not too loud. It might startle Rocket." It would startle him if it started blaring loudly, but he wasn't the one in a deep, unfathomable state of shock right now.

"It won't be loud." Quill said and he chose to put the box on the dresser too. "I don't think we should play Awesome Mix." he glanced in Rocket's direction with his clear blue eyes. "We'll play that another day."

A movement seen from the corner of his eye caught Drax's attention and he stood, walking to where Rocket lay. He was twitching and Drax frowned, not knowing what purpose the movements held. "Gamora, Quill."

Gamora joined him and, before Drax could stop her, unclipped Rocket's jumpsuit which was still covered in splinters and finer pieces of wood. Wood, Drax realised with a sickened feeling in his stomach, that was from Groot. Then he saw them again. The metals, the scarring. Gamora pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. They opened and affixed themselves to Rocket's shaking form. "I'm going to pick you up and take you into the bathroom and I'm going to mend the cybernetics. I know they're hurting you and I know how to fix them. I won't hurt you, I promise."

"Gamora, if you want-"

"No, Peter." Gamora was gentle, careful as she took Rocket into her arms, the loving hold, the softened expression bringing Hovat to life once more. "I know how to help him through this."


	3. Gamora

 

As soon as she stepped into the bathroom with its marbled softly blue tiling, Gamora felt a twinge of uncertainty. Rocket, if he wanted to, could be a fair fight. With herself slightly injured and him in the throes of grief and all the rage it brought, things could end badly. But then she felt the tremors and forced herself to get a grip. He was her friend and he needed her help. She carried pliers and a small wrench for her own enhancements, so, knowing she had everything she needed to help Rocket, Gamora climbed into the large, circular bathtub and sat down with a grunt as her skin, muscles and ligaments screamed in protest, holding Rocket steady. When he got back to normal, he was _not_ going to be happy about this, but it had to be done. "Rocket, I'm going to try and keep you upright, okay? I need you to be facedown so I can look at your back."

No answer. Not surprising. Gamora curled herself so her legs were bent and placed Rocket on her thighs, his jaw resting on her knees. Whoever had given Rocket his cybernetics had used cheap materials, she realised. The flesh was torn around them and a nut appeared to be one movement away from slipping from its bolt. She took out her little wrench and began twisting it back down. Fortunately, the skin around the bolt was not so damaged and she was able to replace the nut reasonably easily. He had been given a shot for pain relief after they had left the crash site - they all had, but it seemed to be wearing off slightly. She wondered if he carried his own medication with him like she did. "I'm going to look in your pocket, okay? I know you're hurting and I'm going to try to help it." She found a black stone with a clear crystal inside which was a puzzling mystery. _"Why would he have such a thing on his person?"_ Gamora thought to herself. He really was turning out to be an enigma. Another search found a yellow tube containing tiny pills, no larger than a millimetre. She helped Rocket to turn back around and looked into his eyes, even though she knew she wouldn't find anything there. "Look," she said gently. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to put my fingers into your mouth. If you bite down, I understand that you can't help it. If it was me, I would do the same thing. But, if you can, _please_ try not to bite my fingers off." She edged a finger between his teeth, feeling the sharp points of his tiny yet dangerous fangs and pushed the pill as far back into his mouth as she dared. He didn't bite, but she could see his eyes begin to brighten as his shell-shocked state lifted. She removed her fingers and watched as he swallowed.

Rocket blinked. He looked at her. He looked at her fingers which she was wiping on the clothes Xandar had provided. "I sure hope your hands are clean."

Gamora tried a smile, a stupid joke. "Not any longer."

Rocket didn't smile, but he didn't get upset either. "Thanks. Helping me out with the...Those things. I never knew you have 'em too."

"It's not something I like to discuss. I try to forget them."

"I get that."

Gamora took his hands and squeezed them gently. "I know what grief can do to people. Please don't go anywhere. Don't think that you're on your own. You're not."

"None of you are the same."

That was true. No point in trying to convince him otherwise, when she knew that anything else would be a lie. Thanos had raised her to be a killer and a monster, but he had not trained her to lie. "No, we're not. But we're here. And, to quote Peter, we give a shit."

"That dumbass Terran has the stupidest fuckin' sayings." Rocket looked at her, at her hands covering his. "I just don't know how the fuck we went from being happy to kill each other to you and I in a bathtub together holding hands."

"You've witnessed how many strange things in the past couple of days and _this_ is what surprises you the most?"

To her surprise, Rocket smiled. It was quick, it was brief, but it was a smile. "I ain't used to humanoids like you wanting to be my friend."

"Then I suggest you get used to it. Because now you have three humanoids who care a lot, who want you in their lives." She rubbed his hands between hers, a trick she remembered her parents doing whenever she had felt low in mood. "I am sorry for what happened. But we're here and we're something. Right?"

Rocket's gaze shifted so he was no longer looking into her eyes. Just as she began to fear rejection, he made eye contact again. "Okay." He leaned back against her thighs, pushing up to stand. "Okay. I want to shower and change out of this Ravager crap."

"I sincerely hope you never meet Yondu again. You and he would not get on well."

"He's a jerk. Remember he called me a fuzzy little maniac when I first met him?"

"You had just threatened to blow up his ship."

"Whose side are you on, woman?"

Gamora shook her head, smiling. "I'll leave you to shower in peace and I'll get your clothes. We're going to have dinner later, I hope you'll be there."

Rocket began running the water into the tub as she stepped out of it. "Do I have a choice in this matter?" he called over his shoulder.

"Of course you do." Gamora told him. "It would just be nice to have a bonding moment that doesn't involve danger."

 


	4. Peter

  
Peter woke up with Gamora on one side (a sight he highly recommended waking up to. It was funny to see the stoic warrior with bedhead), Drax on the other (he even looked like he could kill a man in his sleep) and Rocket curled up on Peter's chest. It reminded him of the Ravager sleeping arrangements back on the Eclector. He tried to remember the events of the night before, but all he could remember was the silver crystalline bottle of Alaaxian vodka. Which, if Peter really had to guess, went a long way to explain his confusion.  
The Alaaxian vodka was pretty awesome in that it didn't leave Peter with a headache like A'askavarian whiskey or throwing up like Gunavian beer did. It did however, leave him wondering what the hell he'd done the previous night and he blamed the stuff for no less than eight of his prior arrests. At least he'd not gotten into a fight with any of the Guardians. Once he'd gotten so drunk he'd fought a wall, subsequently shattered every bone in his left hand and had been kept captive by Yondu until it had healed. He'd break a lot more than that if he tried fighting any of them and he knew it.

Gamora stretched, narrowly managing to avoid accidentally punching Rocket awake. She sat up as though she hadn't gotten wildly drunk and looked over at Drax who clearly had no plans of awakening and Rocket who had hold of Peter's shirt. She looked at Peter. "We shouldn't have allowed him to drink so much."

Peter looked from her to Rocket and then back at her. "Telling _this_ guy what to do or not do is a death sentence. Anyway, he needed a chance to get drunk and forget. He's hurtin'."

"Maybe it is, but he likes you. He didn't choose me or Drax to use as a bed."

"You and Drax are solid muscle. I'm not."

Gamora looked touched. "It's so nice to hear a compliment."

"You're not supposed to just agree! You're meant to say 'Peter, you're muscular too. In fact, you're the most muscular, handsome man I have ever laid eyes upon'."

Gamora rolled her eyes. "As much as I would love to sit around and stoke your ego, Nova Prime wanted to meet with us today. Remember?"

"Look at Rocket." Peter nodded downward at the furry bundle in his arms. "He's clearly not slept since Groot and he's obviously very comfortable - and who can blame him? - and I clearly cannot move. I wish I could, but-"

"Fine, I'll take Drax." Gamora kicked Drax in the side of his shin. "Drax! Wake up!"

"It amazes me how tender and gentle you are, Gamora."

"She is not." Drax said, his eyes closed. "Why did you wake me in such a violent manner?"

"Because Nova Prime needs to meet with us two, seeing as Quill is too busy."

With a rolling sigh, Drax struggled to sit up. He caught sight of Rocket and he sighed again, a gentle, sad sigh. "You will look after this one." A warning.

"It'll be great." Peter wanted music and didn't trust some horrible mishap to occur with one of his tapes if Gamora or Drax dealt with them. He wriggled to see if Rocket would notice. He didn't and Peter edged his way off the bed and paused when Rocket began stirring in his hold. He didn't wake up and Peter browsed through the selection. He really wanted to listen to Awesome Mix, but all that needed to happen was 'O-o-h Child' playing for Rocket to be taken back to Groot dying.It had been nearly thirty years since he had last listened to 'I'm Not In Love'. God only knew how long it would take for Rocket to listen to his own saddest song.

Gamora touched his arm. "We're about to go. Rocket has pills in his pocket. Make sure he has one as soon as he wakes up."

"Okay. See you." Peter finally found The One. An album his mother had labelled 'English Misc'. He slotted it into the machine and pressed the yellow button for it to play.

 _'You've done it all, you've broken every code_  
_And pulled the rebel to the floor_  
_You spoilt the game, no matter what you say_  
_For only metal, what a bore...'_

Peter started nodding his head to the beat. He must have been very strong in his movements for Rocket started moving his head and suddenly two brown eyes were staring up at him in bemusement. "Morning, Rocket!"

"What happened to your other music?" Rocket asked, stretching his legs out. "Put me down, will you? If I wanted to be this height, I'd grow."

Peter had a suspicion that Rocket had reached his full height, but let him down anyway. "I thought it would be nice to have a change."

"Why are you lying to me, Peter? You replayed that tape 87 times on our way to Knowhere. And you forced Yondu to play it over the speakers before..." Rocket stopped and shook his head. "Just tell me what's going on, Quill."

"I know the power a song can have." Peter admitted softly. "There's a song on there I was listening to the day my mom died. It's called 'I'm Not In Love' and it was sang by a group called 10cc. I can't listen to that song any more." He knew Rocket hated pity and tried to look neutral-but-sympathetic. "I thought if you hear 'O-o-h Child', you'll remember Groot-"

"Don't. Don't you talk to me about him."

"It's okay to be sad about this, Rocket." Peter didn't think it was sadness, though. There was a gleam in Rocket's eyes he had never seen before.

"Sad? You think I'm fucking _sad,_ Quill?" Rocket leant forward as he yelled; _"I'm infuriated!"_

Peter knew better than to ask any questions or say anything. Life with the Ravagers had taught him a very valuable lesson - knowing when to shut up and listen. Of course he didn't always follow that lesson. But this, right now, this was important.

"That jerk, that bastard, he _swore_ he'd never ever leave me! And you know what, Quill? That's exactly what he did! Fuckin' left me alone and told me I could have you people as a consolation prize-"

 _"Did we inherit Rocket?"_ Peter wondered. If so, it made his eyes prickle, knowing how much Groot had adored Rocket with all of his enormous heart. If the guy _had_ left his best friend to them, it was a huge show of how much he had thought of them.

"You don't come _close,_ Peter! _None_ of you come close! And you'll all leave anyway, so what was the fucking point?"

"Hey!" He couldn't stand by and listen to that. He crouched down to make eye contact with the raccoon and kept it steady. "Don't you believe that. Don't you even dare believe that we're going to abandon you. Don't listen to those thoughts that are telling you you'll lose us. They're not right. That's not right."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Rocket, if it's true that he told you that you have us for your family, then he's _right."_ Peter blurted out. "I mean, look at us all. We saved an entire galaxy through mutually giving a damn about each other! If that isn't a family bonding moment, I don't know what is!"

Rocket watched him, stunned into silence. Peter could almost hear the gears turning in his mind (he may literally have had them, if the cybernetics in his back were anything to go by). "But he _left_ me."

"He didn't leave you. He saved you 'cause he knew you were worth saving. He saved the rest of us because he knew we'd be there for you. I know we aren't the same as Groot and if you want to go your own way, that's fine. But I'd like it much better if you were around."

"I will kill you if you ever make me hurt me like this again, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know." But Peter also knew that the threat was for show. 

"Will you play the song?"

Peter glanced at the speaker box and back at Rocket. "What? You mean 'I'm Not In Love'?"

"Yeah. I wanna hear it."

Even though the raccoon had insisted he hated Peter's music, Peter knew for a fact that he actually enjoyed it. He'd even managed to work out Rocket's favourite song - Cherry Bomb - while journeying to Knowhere. He had never made a request before and Peter swallowed. "Okay," he said, trying to sound like he didn't care one way or the other. "Just don't judge me if I start crying."

"You didn't judge me, Quill."

Peter changed the tapes and clicked the buttons until the familiar, long-ago sounds of the soft choiral singing filled the air. Suddenly, he was nine years old again, waiting to see his mom after that fight in school. He could hear his grandfather gently scold him for the fight, not having the heart to really lecture him, especially when he learned the reason for the fight. A black eye over a frog.  A broken heart over a tree. Goddamn, what a life.

_I'm not in love  
_So don't forget it  
__It's just a silly phase I'm going through...____

But he had loved his mom. Rocket had loved Groot. Just neither of them had had any idea what that had meant.

 _I like to see you_  
_But then again_  
_That doesn't mean you mean that much to me..._

"Turn it off, Peter." Rocket said quietly and Peter realised that hot tears were burning a trail down his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I didn't...I shouldn't have asked."

"'s okay." Peter rubbed away the wet lines. "It's a damn good song, and I'm okay."

Rocket pulled the collar of Peter's shirt up over his mouth and nose and he thought the raccoon was trying to suffocate him, but no, he was using the material to rub at his eyes. "Come on, Quill, don't do that. You're not a pretty crier."

That's what he got for being a good friend, huh?

"I don't think it would hurt me to hear the child song," Rocket said, leaving the shirt where it was pulled up over Peter's face. "I appreciate it, but play this damn tape. It's not as crappy as the other one."

Peter pulled his shirt back into its rightful place. The neckhole was stretched, but it didn't really matter. "After the crash-"

"You really think I was in a listening mood at the time?"

Well, shit. He'd not thought of that. "No."

"No, I was not." Rocket's ears flicked and lowered. "I, um... There's someone I need to call, but I don't got her number. Will you go and get it for me? It's known to Nova Records."

"Yeah, sure. What's the name of this girl?"

"Lylla. Or, they might have her recorded as 26L41."

"Will you be okay if I go now?"

Rocket crossed his arms over his chest. "'Course I'll be alright. I don't need a bodyguard, Quill, now beat it!"

Peter remembered what Gamora had said about Rocket needing his meds, but he figured that the guy would be able to remember those himself. "Okay, I'll be back real soon. Don't blow up the room while I'm gone."


	5. Rocket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midway through, Rocket starts biting and scratching himself as a way to deal with his grief. If this is triggering, skip over and be aware that it will be mentioned as the story goes on, although this will likely be the only self-harm scene in the story.  
> Rocket's self harm is based heavily on my own experiences with it. If you ever find yourself biting, scratching or otherwise physically attacking yourself, please get help! You're incredibly important and both you and your body is a wonder to be cherished and doesn't deserve to get hurt!

Aches twinged at his body and he reached inside his pocket for his pills. He unscrewed the cap of the tube, placed one tiny white circle on his tongue and put the tube back inside his pocket, swallowing down his pain relief. His hypersensitive fingertips touched something hard and smooth. He closed his digits around it and took it out, holding it in his palm. Against the creases of his palm lay a rock. Groot's rock.

* * *

_The Eclector_

 

_He could see that Groot was watching him fearfully and sighed, running a hand over his brow. "Everybody get out, I want a moment with Groot."_

_"We're try'na save Xandar here, rat. We ain't got time to waste."_

_"Do you want my assistance or not, Udonta?"_

_Reluctantly, with a sneering roll of his eyes, Yondu had wordlessly ordered his men out, following them several seconds after. Give the guy his dues, he knew a threat when he heard one. Rocket stepped toward Groot, arms uncrossing themselves for the first time since boarding the Eclector. He wasn't dumb enough to relax around the Ravagers, but he knew he was safe with Groot. "What?"_

_"I am Groot."_ 'I wish you weren't going on your own.'

_"I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about. You'll come back singing Quill's dumb songs and I won't be able to stop you." Rocket huffed out a laugh. "It's hardly the first time we've been separated, man."_

_"I am Groot."_ 'I know, Rocket, but this is big.'

_Rocket sighed, bringing his arms back toward his body to cross them. "You're right. This is big. It's huge. But at the end of it, we'll find each other again."_

_Groot knelt down in front of him. Despite that, the Flora Colossus was still frickin' enormous, making it so Rocket still had to look up to make eye contact. "I am Groot," he said, holding out his hand._ 'I want you to have this.'

_In Groot's wooden palm was the stone he had plucked from Planet X's barren surface, kept and loved for the past five years. Rocket blinked at it, stared at Groot. "That's yours. It's from your world. You can't just give away a piece of your world." What if he never got it back? Rocket was trying to stay positive for Groot's sake, but he knew the risk, going against Ronan. They all knew the risk._

_"I am Groot."_ 'Just in case we don't find each other.'

_"We will," Rocket promised and he had meant that promise. "But what if it gets lost or-"_

_"I am Groot."_ 'I want you to keep it safe for me. Please.'

_Groot knew, Rocket had realised. Groot knew very well that they might die. For all Rocket sometimes despaired of his friend, the guy also knew the risk of what they were doing. He accepted the pebble, slipping it into his pocket and folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, I have it now. Happy?"_

_"I am Groot."_ 'I'll be happier when the monster who destroyed my homeworld and killed my people is dead.'

_"I_ knew _you had it in you to be vindictive." Rocket said proudly. "I gotta get going, okay? I'll see you, buddy." He meant that. He would see him. If there was anything that he could count on, it was the fact that Groot would be in his life. He had been since Rocket had barely left his mother's teat. He had to be there._

_"I am Groot."_ 'I love you. Keep safe.'

_"You, too, man!" Rocket had called over his shoulder before taking a running leap onto the ship that he had been allocated. He turned on the radio for communication and had put any fears he'd had out of his mind. He had been so sure, so certain that Groot would survive this._

* * *

He knew it really should stay with the twig. The one piece of Groot Rocket had been unable to part with. It was safely enshrouded in a spare blanket inside the drawer beneath the bed and he held it in his arms, touching it gently. White, slightly crusted, marks decorated it, remnants of the tears he had cried over the twig. He didn't know how to deal with this...the pain, the anger, the sorrow, the regret, the memories. The only person who had ever known a pain like this was the reason Rocket now felt it.

Rocket _hated_ him.

Except, he didn't. He loved the jerk and it wasn't fair that his brain wouldn't let him stop loving the person who had given him so much agony. He bowed his head over the twig again and felt more tears pour down his face. "Groot...Groot..." The problem, he guessed, was that he didn't hate the guy for dying, he hated the fact he was dead, hated the fact that it hurt so much, hated the fact that the only way for them all to live was for Groot to die. And why was that?

The Hadron Enforcer had failed. He had flown through the Dark Aster. He had caused the ship to fall. He had killed Groot.

_He hated himself._

Sharp, terrible lines scratched over his eyelid. It hurt, it really hurt, but he couldn't stop. His body had a mind of its own of a sudden and that mind was in full self-destruct mode. The twig slipped from its blanket and fell, unharmed, to the floor and this made the unstoppable force raging against Rocket all the angrier. It brought his forearm to his mouth and his jaws clamped around it, teeth breaking through his flesh with ease. The fingers of the forearm latched onto his shoulder, claws ripping through the skin. Blood, blood, all he could taste was blood, the metallic heaviness filling his mouth, some finding its way down his throat. A rising growl rose in his throat and his teeth snapped down all the harder. He deserved this, he deserved it. The arm tore itself to freedom, but the force, the thing that was forcing him to bite and scratch himself was still there. Something made him curl up his fingers to keep his claws from doing any damage as the force made him rub his hands over his head, towards the back of his skull. Then the force made him hook his claws into the back of his neck and hurl his head against the nightstand. Pain exploded through his head, muffling everything and the force repeated the action. His hand grabbed the bed, his brain trying to fight back, gain some control, but the force punished him by forcing him into putting his wrist into his mouth and biting down with all the force he had.

"What is going on? Rocket, no!"

He didn't know why he couldn't stop. He had never done this before and now they were here, they could see what a monster, what a little _animal_ he really was. A hand tried to get his arm to safety and the force made him bite their fingers, causing a yelp of pain and an impressive array of curses. He knew how rude it was to bite friends and he'd never intentionally bitten Groot for this very reason and he wanted to tell them that he was sorry, that he hadn't meant to bite them and that he really didn't want to be doing this to himself, but something had taken over him and it wouldn't stop.

"Gamora, are you okay?"

Oh, great, he'd bitten Gamora. Of all people, he'd bitten the _one_ person who knew the horrors of having cybernetics. The force got his palm into his mouth and again drew blood, causing him to whine in pain.

"I'm fine. Rocket, please!" And, dammit, he could hear the concern in her voice, concern he didn't deserve, not in the way he deserved this, because however much he hated the pain and feared the force, he couldn't deny that he deserved what he was getting.

The force let him release his hand and allowed him three words. "I deserve it!" Then - _thwack!_ \- another smash into the nightstand.

"No, you _don't_ deserve this! Come on, man, stop!"

_"I can't,"_ Rocket thought, desperately hoping that one of them might understand. _"It won't let me."_ His claws raked into his face again, drawing bloody lines down his jawbone. Hands grabbed his paws and the force screamed in fury. "I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it!" He tried scratching the hands that held onto his, but there was no resultant cry, no release of this loving imprisonment, even though he could feel blood encasing his hands. He tried to bite them but they kept moving and he tried to bite at his shoulders instead, but only managed to catch fur. The strength of the force waned and his legs buckled underneath himself, the fight and anger gone. The hands - Drax's hands, he realised - let him go and someone - probably Quill - caught him before he could fall limply to the ground. Even though they had just witnessed him clawing and biting chunks out of himself, they still wanted to be near him.

 

Quill brought him closer, even though it meant getting blood all over himself. He was hugging him, exactly like how Groot used to do and Rocket wanted to not like it so damn much, he wanted to stay loyal and say that only Groot was allowed to hug him. But Peter was so soft and so warm and he was there, actually there, breathing and living. He, Gamora and Drax were all Rocket had. If he wanted family, he would need them around. If he wanted to give the love he had, they were the ones who had earned it multiple times over. He tucked his injured hand against his chest and burrowed against Peter, completely wiped out.

His arm was manoeuvred over his chest and his eyes flickered to Gamora's face. He had bitten her fingers, made her bleed and she was taking care of him, the injuries he had inflicted upon himself. She wasn't scared or disgusted or angry. She cared.

Fingertips brushed over his head, focusing behind his ears. He had scratched the hell out of Drax's palms, but the guy was still giving him affection as if Rocket's attack against him had never happened at all.

Rocket looked upward at Quill. "I'm sorry." Sorry for turning into a lunatic. Sorry for scaring the shit out of him. Sorry for hurting Gamora and Drax.

Quill shook his head. "No. This... This isn't something you apologise for. This isn't your fault."

"But I made some of you bleed. I hurt you." Rocket looked into the glossy black, the soft blue of Gamora and Drax's eyes.

"You did much worse to yourself." Gamora said, holding his less injured hand.

"Why did you think you deserved it?" Drax asked.

"Because if I hadn't crashed the ship, Groot would still be here."

"If you hadn't, Groot would have died anyway. Ronan survived our attempt on his life." Gamora was speaking in an unusually quiet tone. She was trying to be gentle, even after he had treated her so violently.

"I designed that thing." Rocket reminded her.

"You could not have been expected to know how powerful a wielder of an Infinity Stone would be." Drax was gently rubbing the area Rocket had banged his head repeatedly. "That wasn't your fault."

Rocket wanted to believe them. Maybe if he did, the force would be kept away from him. "Ronan killed Groot's planet and his people." he said. "Groot was the last one and now there's no more of them. They're all gone."

"It's still not your fault, man. Groot made that decision, okay? You didn't make it for him."

They were here. They all were either bleeding or covered in his blood - he was both bleeding and bloody - and they didn't care about it. They weren't angry or disgusted or scared of him. No one pitied him. They were hugging, touching and talking with him, like Groot always did when he was hurting. His support, his strength, his peace. Groot had been right all this time. They were his forest.


	6. Groot

 

He awoke to a face he'd once known and had not expected to see for so many years. "Dad?" He sat up, feeling his lifeforce pump around his body, the pace fastening and quickening so much he could scarcely keep up with its beat. "Dad!"

His father brought their foreheads together and laughed breathlessly as Groot hugged him around his middle, burying his face into his shoulder. "My son...How good it is to see you!"

"I missed you." Groot said, still holding on so tightly. "I missed you all painfully."

"I know. We missed you as well." His father gently removed himself from the embrace. "How did you manage to survive on Planet X? I thought nothing could survive there."

Groot shook his head. "I didn't survive there. You were right, nothing could. I was stuck there for nearly forty days. A spaceship took me to..." he paused, memories of Halfword so crystal clear even after all of these years. "I went somewhere awful. They tortured me, they hurt me. They taunted me about our people."

"You were tortured?" His father's eyes, so much darker and older than he remembered, filled with tears. "I should have let us both die together. I'm so sorry."

"No, no!" Groot seized his father's wrists, imploring him to understand. "It was worth it because I met Rocket there."

"Who is that?"

"He's my best friend." The one who had stopped reacting to the pain of heartbreak to tell him something he had only ever been able to show before. The one who had finally managed to tell him that he did indeed love him. "I don't know what his kind is, exactly, but I do know that I couldn't ever hope for a better friend."

"We have some strange creatures here too." His father said, but he didn't focus upon it. "How did you come to perish?"

"I had to shield the others -" Groot began to explain, but at the look of utter confusion on his father's face, he stopped dead. "I think I had better explain from the very beginning, Dad. It's a long story."

It was a long story, much longer than he anticipated and he kept forgetting what he had told his father and repeating it (which was a real nuisance when he reminded him about several of the many jailbreaks he and Rocket had embarked upon), but when it was finally told, his father was smiling. "What a life you have led. No wonder you have aged!"

"You are the one with the most moss, Dad."

"Hmph!" his father said, but he was now grinning. "A fine way to speak to somebody after missing them for five years!"

Five years. In those years, he had befriended and loved Rocket and now...well, now he had no idea what he would do with himself. "I'll miss Rocket. I do wish there was a way for me to see him one final time- Oh!" Something had jumped onto his head and his father reached out his arms to relieve the unexpected load. Groot stared in amazement at the familiar pointy nose, that ringed tail. "I know her! I know this one! 89P09!" Then he saw the eyes. They were blue. "What on earth..."

His father placed the not-Rocket on his shoulder. Suddenly, others joined him. None had Rocket's brown eyes. Then, over the top of his father's head appeared a masked face. And there she was. 89P09. She made a strange chittering sound and sprang, so much like her son, from her perch and onto Groot's shoulder. Of course she couldn't speak, but it was obvious by the way she licked his bark and nuzzled with her wet, black nose what she was saying. "You're okay," Groot said. "You're all safe here." He reached up and touched her head and she nipped playfully at his fingers. Groot smiled and then began laughing at his father. All four of Rocket's siblings had made their way to his father's head and one was panting in a way that suggested a grin, as though the little furry one knew how funny it looked. "You look like you're wearing a bad wig!"

"What's a wig?"

Groot smiled and began walking toward his father. Behind him, he could see the movement of the others of his kind. "Let's go to them and I will tell you along the way. You won't believe all the strange things there are out in the galaxy!"

There were many things to teach, not just his father, but all his people. They listened with curious eyes in shades of browns, golds, bronzes and coppers as he told them of the many things he and Rocket had done in their life together. He told them everything, the good, the bad, the sad, the frightening and several of them cried when he told them about Rocket's final words to him. "I suppose you will be meeting him soon," he said, growing one of Rocket's sisters a leaf to chew. "He had a failure in his body and it poisoned his lifeforce." There was no need to go in the ins and outs of the mammalian body and all the confusing things it contained. Even Rocket hadn't been completely sure what the organs in his body did. "But he has the others to look after him for me."

"I am sure they will do fine," his father assured him. "So it is you two we have to blame for these strange animals."

"They're procyons." Groot said, remembering the name from all those years before. Rocket wouldn't hear it, he said that the people in Halfworld had clearly made a mistake when logging in his details, but it was a better word than 'animals'. "And you seem to have struck up a bond with them."

"Will you introduce us?"

Groot gestured to the brown-eyed procyon. "She is the only one whose name I know, but it isn't really a name. I know she is female, she gave birth to Rocket and his brothers and sisters, but I don't know her name."

"Then we shall name them for our people. Do you think Rocket will mind?"

Groot looked at his father in bewilderment. "Name them the same as us?"

"Their brother, her son, got you out of that evil place. The least we can do is give them a people to belong with."

Groot shifted a bit from one foot to the next. "They may not know they have a people," he warned. "They can't communicate like we can. I don't think they can understand."

"That doesn't matter. They can be honorary Flora Colossi."

"I think Rocket would like that, Dad. I really do."

The corner of his father's eyes crinkled in a smile. "Good, because I would have been offended if you had said anything otherwise."

There was a thought - his father probably wouldn't know what to make of Rocket. Groot loved him, but he couldn't exactly argue that Rocket was perfect in morals without lying. He was perfect in other ways instead. His best friend with his demons, mad genius, creative insults and hidden well of love hidden beneath anger and bitterness. Groot sighed and noticed a pebble by his feet. It was shiny, black and round and he picked it up, thinking that it was the pebble he had taken from his homeworld. But it had no clear crystal and he remembered what had become of it.

* * *

_The Eclector_

 

_Rocket caught his eye and Groot knew that he understood that he was troubled. He ordered everyone out, affording no politeness to the blue alien with the magical arrow, and strolled over, acting completely calm. But Groot saw the apprehension, the way he looked at him as though he knew this may well be the last time they saw each other. "What?" he said, all bravado and external indifference._

"Trust you to pretend," _Groot thought fondly. "I wish you weren't going on your own," he told him. He would have been happier either going with Rocket or Rocket going with them. Who was going to protect him if things went wrong?_

_"I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about. You'll come back singing Quill's dumb songs and I won't be able to stop you." Rocket said, as though he hadn't been the one to somehow get Peter's tape player stuck on 'Cherry Bomb' on the way to Knowhere. Groot had been afraid Peter would throw both Rocket and himself out of the airlock when that had happened. "It's hardly the first time we've been separated, man."_

_"I know, Rocket, but this is big." Groot pointed out. Even Rocket with all his front couldn't argue against that._

_"You're right," Rocket admitted with reluctance. "This is big. It's huge. But at the end of it, we'll find each other again."_

_Groot didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to say all the things in his head, not in such a short amount of time. He wanted to tell Rocket that the past five years had been the best of his life, even at the worst times. He wanted to tell Rocket that his very existence had kept him living. He wanted to tell Rocket that he had become his world. His world...He knelt down on both knees, like how his father had done for him when he had been small, and held out the single piece of his world that he had kept for all five years he had been away from Planet X. "I want you to have this."_

_"That's yours. It's from your world. You can't just give away a piece of your world." Rocket's eyes looked desperate, pleading. They told him that he was terrified of dying - not for the fact that his life would be over, but because he knew he wouldn't be able to return the stone if the unthinkable happened._

_"Just in case we don't find each other."_ Don't mention the thing he fears most. He doesn't need it, he doesn't need to hear what could happen. He needs to know you have faith in him. And you do, you do have faith in him, because he can do anything.

_"But, what if it gets lost or-"_

_"I want you to keep it safe for me. Please."_

_Their eyes met a second time and Groot knew with a sinking heart that Rocket understood the real reason he was giving him his most valuable possession. His small hand took the stone and hid it inside one of his pockets. "Okay, I have it now. Happy?"_

_Groot could tell by the way Rocket hugged his arms around himself that he needed normalcy and needed it immediately. "I'll be happier when the monster who destroyed my homeworld and killed my people is dead."_

_He was rewarded by a grin of amused pride on Rocket's face. "I knew you had it in you to be vindictive!" Then, he was turning, walking away, not wanting to jinx things by saying goodbye. "I gotta get going, okay? I'll see you, buddy."_

_"I love you. Keep safe."_

_"You, too, man!" Rocket called and Groot didn't think he just meant for him to keep safe. He watched as Rocket's ship began to rise and both his new world and the chip of his old world zoomed out of sight._

* * *

Groot thought of the world he had left behind, of the being that had very swiftly become his world. Just as he began to feel melancholy, something nibbled his fingers and weights settled on his arms and chest. Four pairs of sharp blue eyes stared into his and their mother's tail flicked between his eyes as she settled herself on the top of his head. He smiled. He didn't have Rocket, but he did have their families to love on his behalf. There was safety, there was peace and despite the Rocket-shaped hole in his life, he truly did feel content.


	7. Drax

 

Drax's palms were stinging from the indignant scratching from Rocket's emotional breakdown. Drax had never seen such a coping method used before. When Hovat and Kamaria had been murdered, he had been too shocked and hurt to do more than weep, but after that, he had beaten his fists bloody against a wall. Yet, this had been a choice and he had soon made his choice to slaughter his way through Ronan's minions before finally killing the Kree himself. And he had done it. He had achieved this goal. When he had first joined up with this new team of friends, he had known, he had been accompanied by an instinct that had given him the knowledge that Ronan would indeed die. It was Drax's time after all these years to avenge his wife and daughter. But then, there was a whole galaxy, billions of lives, the wives and daughters of other men at stake. The husbands and sons of women. People with families who loved and were loved in return, as Drax had once been. And, even though Hovat and Kamaria remained most important, it had been undeniable to Drax that, in that that exact period of his life, there was a greater thing than his need to avenge them.  
And, for a very brief moment, after witnessing Ronan disintegrate in a bright flash of purple, Drax had wondered what he was to do with his life now. He could not return to his own homeworld, shunned by his mother and father for his failure to protect his family. He had no real purpose, for just a small measure of time. And then he had heard crying and he had known that he did have people who needed him. He had known he was loved again when no anger had come his way for daring to touch Rocket. He had known that they had somehow become a group worthy of honorary kinship only the night before when they had found the furry one attacking himself in such a vicious manner.

He knew his most recent purpose.

"How are your hands, Drax?"

Drax looked at his hands, eyes roving over the fresh lines etched into the grey skin. "Sore," he remarked after several moments' careful thought. "It's nothing serious."

Peter scratched at his jaw with nails that he had clearly been chewing upon. "Look," he said quietly. "We gotta talk with Rocket about, y'know, funeral stuff. I know this might get upsetting, so if you want to, you can take a walk or something..."

"No, no. Groot was my friend too and I will not allow my remaining friends to grieve alone. I'm staying." Drax knew the agony of lonesome grieving, He knew it far too well to allow it to occur to anyone else. Especially not his friends.

Peter nodded and headed back to the couch, jostling the teal cushions as he sat beside Gamora. "I haven't really been to any funerals," he said in a tone of one who was feeling ashamed of the fact. "There would have been my mom's but Yondu abducted me before I got to go." He scratched his jaw again. "Sometimes I saw a Ravager funeral, but I don't think that would really suit Groot."

"I haven't laid anyone to rest before either." Gamora was rubbing her fingers a lot. Whether it was because she was nervous about discussing funeral rites with Rocket or because she was also in pain, Drax could not tell.

The bathroom door opened, letting out steam. Rocket had slept late and deeply, had a large breakfast and had then said he wanted to shower. Drax supposed that it was a strenuous activity to beat oneself so harshly, but he kept this thought to himself. Rocket was only wearing his pants and he was panting, clearly hot from the shower. "Fuckin' hot," he said by way of greeting. "Did you get Lylla's number, Pete?"

"Yeah, but first, we need to talk with you about-"

"Give it here." Rocket pulled out a tablet from the wall and pointed at its screen. "I need to call the woman or she'll never forgive me. I'm sure you're _very_ familiar with that concept, Quill."

Drax began laughing. "Haha! He is referring to your promiscuous tendencies! Hahaha!"

"They're the only tendencies he's got!" Rocket pointed at the screen impatiently. "What you waitin' for, Quill? I'm sure you don't normally take this long to put things in things!"

Gamora hid her mouth behind her hand and Drax saw a smirk between her fingers.

"They managed to find every part of Groot." Peter said in a rush. He had clearly not enjoyed saying those words. "They wanna know what we want to do."

Rocket dropped his arm. He looked down at his feet. His shoulders rolled and he sighed. "Guess I knew this would have to come sooner or later. And I can't...we can't drag him around the universe in a ship. He wouldn't want that."

Gamora patted the seat beside her. "Sit with us."

Rocket sprang onto the small space between Gamora and Quill, looking all the smaller in comparison to them both. "Well," he said. "I have exactly no idea what to do. I never thought I'd outlive him."

Drax nodded. He could easily understand that logic. "I have attended several funerals before," he said, stepping in front of the couch to look down at his friends. "I understand that my people's rites may differ from Terran or Zen-Whoberian rites, but I can offer advice if you would like it."

"The only people's rites we should be following are his people's."

"They died out." Gamora reminded him. "It's not something we can easily discover."

"Did he ever tell you anything about them?" Drax questioned. 

Rocket exhaled slowly, holding his bandaged hands together. Despite Gamora's care, a smudge of blood showed against the bright white. "He told me once that his great great  grandfather was the first of his kind and after he had started off the species and seen a few grandkids born, he took off up a mountain to die. That mountain became sacred because he died up there. When Planet X was destroyed, Groot was sure he'd die, so he went up there." Rocket laughed without mirth. "Then a Ravager ship beamed him up and took him off to Halfworld."

"What is this place?" 

Rocket touched his collarbone, fingertips pressed against the lines of silver metal. He didn't say a word, but Drax understood the silent meaning of his actions.

"Did you guys have any special places?"

"We sure did. Right here on Xandar. We crash-landed in a huge field not far from the river. First time either of us had seen a blue sky, first time we tasted Xandarian apples, last time we ever felt trapped." Rocket started pulling at the bandage on his arm, gazing into the distance. "We can't do a cremation. He'd never forgive me."

Drax noticed the twig on the nightstand Rocket had slammed his head against only the night before. "What do you intend to do with the piece of him you chose to keep?"

Rocket's head turned and his ears lightly flicked as he looked upon it. "I know it's fucked up," he said. "Like really, _really_ fucked up to keep a part of someone's actual body, but...it's not gonna go bad, you know? That twig will last forever and for some stupid reason, I can't let it go." He turned his head back to face them. "I guess I'll keep it somewhere safe."

"I am sure we will find a vessel in which to keep it." Drax said, in an effort to be reassuring. He had not kept anything of Hovat and Kamaria, save for his wife's wedding bracelet and a toy that had been beloved by his daughter. Their remains had been torched along with their home and he had not been able to find them to his eternal sorrow.

"Thanks, Drax." Rocket glanced the twig's way once more and then pointed at the screen again. "Number, Quill!"

"Yes, sir." Peter muttered, standing with a strained sigh from his seat.

"Be quick about it. This ain't gonna be a nice conversation and I need to call her now before I lose my nerve."

"I don't know if it's possible for you to lose your nerve, Rocket."

"That's so nice of you, Gamora. Thank you so much."

Gamora looked at Drax, her brows raised in confusion. "Was he being sarcastic?"

"I believe he meant it sincerely." Drax answered. After all, nerve endings belonged inside the body. How was it possible for them to get lost?

Rocket paused before he pressed the button to call this mystery woman. He watched them, his expression one of great reluctance. "Don't leave."

"We won't. We'll be right here." Quill told him and he joined them back on the couch, his eyes fixated upon Rocket.

The screen pulsed a pale blue and there, suddenly, was a thing. Not a thing like Rocket, but a thing nonetheless. It was difficult to tell that she was female, but Rocket had identified her as being so. In her paws she held a black, drooped plant. Once it might have been a flower, but now it was merely a lifeless plantform. Her round eyes like the marbles Drax could recall playing with as a child, stared at Rocket who watched her back with wide, wet eyes. She sniffed, her odd oval nose twitching, and she reached out underneath her screen. "He is gone."

A robot voice. Yet this was no robot, this was a living, organic being and her breathing was hitched, water was edging out of her eyes and Drax realised that the dead flower she held had once been a part of Groot.

"Yeah," Rocket whispered. "Yeah, he's gone, Lylla. I lost him."

Lylla - that was her name it seemed - reached out her paw and placed it against her screen. Rocket put his hand over hers, lowering his head. "You loved him so much. I am sorry."

"I forgot all about that flower. When he said it would live as long as he did...I didn't think both he and it..."

"I know, I know." Despite her emotionless voice, Lylla was looking at Rocket with wretched hurt in her eyes. "Will you come to Home?"

Rocket shook his head, finally making eye contact with her. "I can't. Groot wanted me to stay with the Guardians."

Rather, from what Drax understood, Groot had wanted them to stay with Rocket, but he paid no heed to Rocket's choice of words. As his friend had said, this conversation was unpleasant enough.

"Why?"

"I dunno. Because they're okay people."

Lylla made a noise of disbelief. "It would take more than people being okay for you to be willing to stay with them."

"Because they give a fuck about Groot. And I've been shirtless all morning and none of them have given a fuck about my metalwork."

"So that is why you are half naked."

"Frankly, you're all lucky I'm wearing pants."

"We're going to have to set up some house rules for our ship when we get one," Drax heard Peter quietly tell Gamora. "Rule one: _always wear pants."_

"Who is that?" Lylla squinted over at them, through eyes with long eyelashes. "I see a Terran."

"That's Quill."

"I want to see him."

"Why?"

"Because I am old and you are young and that makes me the better judge of character between us both."

Rocket beckoned Peter over with a wave of his hand. "Why not see all of them, _Mom?"_

"Maybe I will."

As Rocket gestured for both Gamora and Drax to join him before Lylla, Drax remarked; "I did not know you had a mother."

"I wasn't a test tube baby, Drax."

Drax nodded as respectfully as he was able at Lylla even though he found the sight of her to be very, very odd. "You have raised a remarkable son."

"I am sure I did."

"Lylla! Don't encourage him! She isn't my mother, Drax, I was bein' sarcastic!"

"I was referring to my pups, Rocket. So." Lylla looked at them, from Peter who was smirking, to Gamora who was utterly impassive and finally to Drax who was feeling very confused over Rocket's choice of wording toward Lylla. "These are the people he chose?"

Drax was about to protest for their sakes, but Rocket got there first. "If they're good enough for Groot, they're good enough for me," he said in a tone that indicated however much respect and affection he had for Lylla, he was holding Groot's opinion and wishes above all else.

Lylla didn't argue. She closed her round, black eyes and looked down at the dark, withered petals of the flower she cradled in her paws. "He loved you."

"I know. It may come as a surprise to you, but I loved him too."

"No, that doesn't surprise me. But you will come back to Home?" 

"Yeah, I'll come back to Home."

Lylla took her hand from the screen and lovingly stroked the dead petals of the flower. "Would you like his gift?" 

Rocket shook his head in polite refusal. "No. He wanted you to have it. Just remember him for me."

Lylla brought the dead plant to her nose, giving a nod that bordered on being imperceptible. "How could I forget?" 

"Like you said, you're old."

Lylla presented her middle finger as though it was all the answer he needed. 

Rocket grinned. "I'll call you when we leave Xandar, okay?" 

"Alright. I'll hear from you soon." Lylla touched the screen, a memento of affection and cut the call. 

As soon as Lylla exited, Rocket slumped his shoulders, staring forward. "I've never seen her cry before."

Peter reached down to touch his shoulder. Immediately, Rocket flinched and jumped away. "Sorry! I didn't mean to... I'm sorry."

"Dumbass!" Rocket accused, but he did not attempt any form of retaliation. "Here's a house rule for you - Don't touch Rocket from the head down." Seconds later, he added; "Unless you're Gamora."

Drax puzzled over why Gamora would be the only one allowed to do this. Rocket was turning away and Drax doubted Gamora would immediately inform him of the reason why, leaving him to ponder curiously. 

A look at Peter informed him that the Terran was just as confused. 


	8. Gamora

  
It was not something Gamora had much knowledge on, it had to be said. In her life this far, items were bought based upon practicality, durability, usefulness. Sentimentality had no place in an assassin's life and the pot they were trying to choose was based solely on sentimentality, beauty and comfort. Rocket wanted something nice for Groot's twig. Nothing flashy or hard on the eyes. Something solid without being heavy. Something large without being cumbersome. Something, she supposed, like Groot.

In the end, it had been a simple, square pot in a shade of white that had been chosen. Rocket didn't want to plant the twig until after its parent had been returned to earth and no one bothered to ask why. It was known to them all the strange antics brought on by grief. One only had to look at Rocket's self-inflicted scarring to know that.

"You ready?"

Rocket stared at the ground, shifting the pot around in his arms. "Yeah."

"There's no hurry."

"I know, I just... I don't want to say goodbye to him."

"You don't have to say goodbye." Drax said. "In my culture, we say 'until we meet again'."

Rocket almost smiled. "I like that. That's a lot better."

"Maybe you can tell us about your first day on Xandar along the way." Gamora suggested.

"Yeah, maybe I can."

* * *

"-Next thing, we slammed into the ground and we opened the doors. That was when we saw this." Rocket gestured outward at the very ordinary field before them. A pond glimmered in the distance and Gamora could see the ancient Xandarian apple tree Rocket had told them about weakly waving shrivelled branches, still proudly bearing its golden fruits. "First time I ever felt grass beneath my feet. Groot thought he was in heaven here. He said he'd forgotten what beauty looked like."

"It's...nice."

Gamora rolled her eyes. Peter was trying, but really? _Nice?_

"I know it's nothing spectacular, but for him, he'd been trapped in Halfworld with me for months and I'd never seen fields or rivers or anything before. He told me what they were, explained what they were like, but actually getting to _know_ those things..." Rocket shrugged, unable to describe the feeling. "No other place in the galaxy is as sacred as this place. Not to us." Quietly, he added; "Not to me."

"They've buried him for us." Gamora told him, gesturing politely to the flattened mound strewn with flowers. "At the base of the tree, like you said." Rocket had been very, very precise about where he'd wanted Groot. Co-ordinates and maps had been involved so the destroyed ship could be seen from the tree and the tree could be seen from the ship. Gamora knew that Rocket held the smashed up supply ship sacred as he did this ordinary field - after all, it had taken them from this Halfworld place to an area of sanctuary. What could possibly be more sacred?

"I see it." Rocket looked up at them and she could see that it was taking every ounce of his being to head towards the tree. "Come on, let's get it over with."

Gamora watched as he settled the pot at the very bottom of the tree. She looked at Peter for a cue, unfairly because he was as clueless as she was. Drax was bowing his head, so she followed suit, figuring he was their best chance of knowing how to behave during a funeral.

"So here we both are." Rocket said softly. "I never thought... Never even imagined that it would be you." He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "But it was you," he said, his voice catching. "It _was_ _you_ who went first."

Drax didn't even look up, his enormous fists closed together, so both Gamora and Peter kept quiet too.

"I'm sorry I got so mad sometimes. I'm sorry for saying those stupid things I didn't mean. I'm sorry for not bein' as good as you. You saved me and I'm sorry I never got the chance to save you back. You loved me and I bet there were times when you must have wondered if even a little part of me loved you back. It did. I did. _I do_. And that love won't ever go away, I promise." Through lowered eyelashes, Gamora could see Rocket glance their direction. "I was so mad with you for leavin' me. Should've known you'd have realised that these ones are okay. Should've trusted you because whenever it came to making sure I was safe, you were never wrong. So, thanks for looking out for me one last time. I love you, buddy." He picked up the pot and hugged it tightly to his chest. "Say what you want to him, I'm going to fill this up with soil from the pond."

"We'll take care of that little maniac for you." Peter promised the soft hill of earth as Rocket walked away. "Man, he loved you one hell of a lot. Thanks for trusting us."

"And saving us." Drax reminded.

"And saving us."

"And protecting us." By the shining disc of liquid, Gamora could see Rocket shovelling handfuls of nutritious soil into the pot.

"And protecting us."

Gamora broke away from the group as Rocket finished putting the earth inside it. He wrapped his arms around the smooth white sides and bowed his head over it. Droplets of water slid from his eyes, soaking into the soil so quickly, it was as if the tears had been needed. He took a few minutes and grabbed a handful of grey, delicate stones from the sides of the pond, decorating the pot one final time. He took out Groot's stone from his pocket and placed it near the twig. His dextrous fingertips brushed over the twig, the touch being delicate, loving. He sighed and stood up from where he had knelt, taking the pot with him. He met her eyes and she knew that even though he might deny it later, he was truly thankful that they were there with him.

* * *

It was late at night when she heard the clanking of bottles. She sat up on her side of the bed and peered through the darkness. "Rocket?"

"I'm gonna get drunk."

"Alright." Gamora slid from the bed and joined Rocket on the couch. She pointed at the angular orange bottle filled with a fizzing, dark liquid. "What _is_ that?"

"Some wine crap, but at least it's booze."

He offered her the bottle first and she drank deeply. It was very sweet and she pulled a face. "You were right about it being crap."

Rocket tried some and grimaced. "Fuck getting drunk, that ain't gonna happen any more."

In honesty, she was glad of that. She had very little idea and experience of how to deal with drunken people. If Rocket was going to get drunk, she would have preferred Quill to be with him. "Did you want to talk about anything?"

"From cyborg to cyborg?"

"No. From friend to friend."

Rocket half-smiled. "I want to ask you something really personal and you'll hate it. Why didn't you ever try to kill Thanos?"

"You make that sound like it's easy." Gamora said coolly, feeling tense with anger at the mention of her adoptive father's name. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Because when I had the chance to kill my maker, I couldn't do it. I was wondering why you never killed your own."

"If I tell you, it's in confidence and I will kill you if you tell anyone. You understand that?" At Rocket's nod, she exhaled slowly through her nose, twirling a lock of magenta hair through her fingers. "For a time, I loved him," she admitted in a low tone. "And then I realised what he was actually doing, what he actually was."

"Why did you love him?"

"Because he was my only way of survival. I was a child, barely old enough to walk, and I needed someone to rely on." She looked at Rocket, at his eyes. They were lost in thought and she couldn't help the question; "Why couldn't you kill your maker?"

"I hated him." Rocket said after moments of silence. "Gavaar, he... He was fucked up, the things he did."

"Gavaar? That sounds like an Aakon name."

"He was an Aakon. You can imagine how on edge I used to be when I saw an Aaron after we escaped. Kept thinkin' every single one I saw was him."

Gamora nodded silently in agreement. She could easily imagine, and understand, Rocket's fear towards them.

"I had him. Groot held him for me, looked away when it got too much for him to see and I had a knife to Gavaar's throat, ready to kill the bastard, but..." Rocket shrugged. "Couldn't do it. I _wanted_ to, but something held me back."

"Are you sure you never loved him?" At Rocket's narrowed eyes, Gamora pointed to herself. "I once loved _Thanos_ , remember?"

Rocket accepted this point with a nod of his head. "At the beginning, all I wanted to do was please him. If I did, I got rewarded, you know?"

Gamora knew. She knew very well.

"There was no love. Not like me and Groot or Peter and his mom. Definitely not Drax and his wife." Rocket shuddered at that particularly disturbing thought. "I had every reason to kill him. But I couldn't. Never really knew why."

"You were born in Halfworld, weren't you? Gavaar was probably present at your birth, right?"

"He personally cut me and my siblings out of my mother."

Gamora flinched and gave Rocket her hand to hold in an attempt to stop him from playing with the bandage. "Is it possible that you may have imprinted on him?"

"I fucking hope not." Rocket's hold was gentle, light and he was looking at the bandages on her fingers where his teeth had torn through the skin. He looked at her with a tentative expression on his face. "Thing is.. It could be right. I'm not an animal _now,_ but I was born one."

So he knew that he had an animalistic background. But, as he said, he was no animal now. "Imprinting is an instinct most mammalian creatures are born with. I imprinted on my parents, Peter imprinted on his mother, Drax imprinted on his mother and father. It's normal."

"You think?"

"I know. And you must never feel wrong for not being able to kill Gavaar. A bond like that, even between you and that monster, is _strong_ , Rocket."

"What if he hears about Groot? He'll come after me."

"I'll kill him on your behalf."

Rocket took one hand off of hers and wrapped his arm around her back. Maybe he was slightly drunk from the wine. Perhaps he was overcome by grief from Groot's funeral. "Thanks."

"I'm glad you've talked to me." Gamora rested her arm around his small shoulders. "I know it wasn't an easy thing to do."

"You didn't mind talking about Thanos?"

Gamora sighed, unable to lie. "I don't like talking about him, but if it's important, like it was just now, then I will."

"I don't ever want the freak who redesigned me coming near any of you."

"We can look after ourselves." Gamora assured him. 

"I'm not sure about Quill."

"Neither am I, but he has survived this long, so perhaps we shouldn't worry so much."

"I never thought of that." 

Gamora followed Rocket's gaze to her fingers. "Hey. Look at me." When he did, she spoke as clearly as she was able. "This was not your fault. You did worse damage to yourself. You will _stop_ feeling guilty or I promise you, I will kick your ass."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Trust me, you wouldn't." Rocket didn't argue back, possibly realising that if he did have anything to be sorry about, he would already be sorry. Gamora rubbed behind his ears. "Do you feel any differently? Now he's buried?" 

"I'm glad he's somewhere safe, somewhere he liked. Obviously, he can't appreciate it, but it makes it easier."

"I'm sure he would appreciate it."

"Let's fucking hope he would, because it was a huge pain in the ass getting those co-ordinates right."

That was true. If she went to her grave without ever again hearing about co-ordinates, she would die a contented woman. Unfortunately, her fate was already destined to be one of a life onboard a ship. But, as she looked at Peter whose head was dangling off the bed, Drax who was splayed out and snoring and Rocket who was still hugging her as though she was as delicate as the twig he loved so dearly, she decided that living with these men would be contentment enough.


	9. Peter

In the days that followed Groot's burial, Peter had been sure that Rocket was going to spiral into self-destruct mode once more. To his surprise, he didn't. He didn't go out drinking (much), he didn't get into brawls, he didn't try very hard to push them away. Most importantly, he never ever hurt himself like he had, and his wounds cleared up quickly. Peter knew that the peace wouldn't last, but that was okay. Mellowness didn't really suit Rocket.  
What did suit Rocket was music. He _loved_ it. Peter was ecstatic. Finally, after twenty-six years, he had someone to listen to the words and enjoy the beat with. The pot often ended up with the headphones clamped around it too, but Peter knew better than to bring it up and there was an unwritten rule that he was under no circumstances allowed to take away the music until the song had finished. He'd never broken this rule before, but he also couldn't bring himself to do it. If Rocket wanted to share his favourite thing with his dead best friend, then that was fine by him.

It was to the steady drums of Pearl Jam that Peter walked from the shower to hear. It was kinda weird to not hear Awesome Mix playing, but he was a little glad he didn't have to hear I'm Not In Love playing. The guitar joined in as he made his way to the soundbox and he could see Rocket curled around the pot on the couch, staring at the twig as though it held all of life's answers.

_I've used hammers made out of wood,_

_I have played games with pieces and rules_

_I've deciphered tricks at the bar_

_But now you're gone, I haven't figured out why..._

Peter knew this song. He had listened to it numerous times when he'd found the pain of missing his mom too much to stand. Somehow it helped knowing that someone else knew his pain and that it mattered enough to be put into words. "Pearl Jam," he said by way of greeting. "Man, remember how confused Drax got? Asking us how a pearl could possibly be used to make jam?"

"Pete, look at this here." Rocket pointed to the twig. "You see that?"

Peter knelt by the couch and looked as close as he could at the twig. "I can see green. Moss?"

"Yep. And look at the base."

Peter could see a thickened wideness where the twig had been planted. He felt his own eyes widen. "Holy shit. It's growing!"

"Looks like we've got ourselves a ship plant." Rocket touched the mossy patch gently. "And it'll be a frickin' enormous ship plant too."

"We'll find room." Peter said. "I swear on my mother that we'll find room."

_I've figured out numbers and what they're for_

_I've understood feelings and I've understood words_

_But how could you be taken away?_

"I miss him, Pete. Stupid as it is, I swear to God I thought maybe...maybe he'd be comin' back to me when I first saw the green."

"It's not stupid. Don't you say it's stupid. You know how many women with blonde hair I used to run up to shouting 'Mom!'? Sometimes I'd even run up to _guys_ with blonde hair. It's normal to hope for what you can't have after someone dies. You want them back, so your mind makes up ways to make you think they aren't really gone."

"So I'm goin' crazy now?"

"We all go crazy when we're grieving."

"Why does it have to hurt so bad?"

Peter exhaled slowly. "I guess that the more you love someone, the more they can hurt you, even if they really don't want to."

"He's worth it, you know." Rocket hugged the pot and looked into Peter's eyes. "If I had the choice of having him in my life and then going through this grievin' bullshit or never havin' him at all and never going through it, I'd choose having him."

"Of course you would, man."

"Same for you when your mom died?"

"Yeah." One day he would tell Rocket about his refusal to hold his mom's hand. But right now, it wasn't about him and his regrets. Regrets he had overcome after they had killed Ronan. "Exactly the same."

_And wherever you're gone and wherever we might go_

_It don't seem fair, you seemed to like it here_

_Your light's reflected now, reflected from afar_

_We were but stones, your light made us stars_

"Can we come back to Xandar to see him?"

"Of course we'll come back. We won't abandon Groot, I promise."

Rocket lifted the pot onto his thigh and then rested it on the couch. Peter wasn't sure if he was the one going crazy now, but he could have sworn he saw the twig wriggle. "I wish I'd told him before that I loved him. Fucking figures that now he's dead, I can say it."

"You don't always have to say it. Look, my grandfather could never say the words. I don't think he ever told me or my mom or my grandmother, but he still brought his wife a bunch of her favourite flowers every week, he still called my mom his baby girl and when she was dying, he assured me every single day that he would take damn good care of me. You don't _need_ to say it. Showing it is enough."

Rocket was shaking his head. "He should have heard it. I never should have kept it quiet for so damn long." He glanced the twig's way. "You know I asked him what love is once. He told me that it's a feeling that gives you strength. You, Gamora, Drax, you've given me strength."

Peter could only imagine what Rocket would do to himself if he had been left alone after Groot had sacrificed himself. He swallowed, trying to ignore the resultant images. "That's what friends do, man. You're still going to stick with us, right? I mean, none of us are immortal..."

Rocket laughed, a shaky sound. "Goddammit, Pete, I _know_ that. Look, I won't deny that it's going to hurt to lose any of you. But it's worth it with you, like it was with him. You get that?"

Peter felt a smile stretch over his face. "Just as long as you do too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Light Years by Pearl Jam. It's such a Groot and Rocket song! Check it out!


	10. Rocket

  
It had been sixteen days, nine hours, thirty three minutes and eleven seconds since Rocket had lost his old family and gained a new one. It wouldn't always be rainbows and sunshine, fuck, it hadn't always been that with Groot, but they were the ones he got up and faced each day for, they were the ones he knew he could give his love to and maybe have a little bit in return.

They were his forest after all. The ones who sheltered him from loneliness, the ones who drove him up when all he wanted to do was lie on the floor.

He watched Peter who was setting up the controls on the Milano. Rocket had already spotted at least forty things that were in urgent need of attention, but he figured it could wait until the goofy grin on Quill's face was gone.

He heard footsteps and looked around to see Gamora. His cyborg sister, a nickname she claimed to hate, but always smiled when he called it out to her. He didn't call her it now, instead looking at Drax. Drax, the guy who was always happy to give ear scratches and who was a surprisingly good listener. All of them here, happy he was there with them.

He turned back around, looking over the wide blue river of Xandar. He could see the tree under which lay his best friend, the first person he'd ever known he loved - but nowhere near the last. He could feel tears in his eyes which surprised him because he wasn't hurt or sad, he was actually really fucking happy. Maybe it was his cybernetics fucking around. He looked away from the tree, unable to stop the smile when suddenly something moved. The twig safely tucked inside the pot which he had on his lap, was moving. He looked closer, sure he was seeing things, because twigs didn't just fucking move.

Then he heard it. A yawn. A high pitched, soft yawn as the twig raised spindly arms high in the air.

_Groot was alive._

"What should we do next?" Peter asked and Rocket had to force his eyes away from the glorious sight of his best friend's return. It was only when Groot looked at Peter that Rocket did too. "Something good, something bad? Little bit of both?"

"We'll follow your lead. Star-Lord." Gamora answered.

Rocket was afraid that Peter would be boring and opt for the good option. Fortunately, he simply said "Little bit of both!" and flew them up into the sky, breaking through the blue atmosphere within seconds, treating them to a view of black nothingness interspersed with faraway stars and distant splashes of colour to indicate nebulae and planets.

Now Rocket could focus on what was most important. Turning the pot around, he was met with a pair of bright brown eyes. He smiled and reached out a careful hand, hoping that he was not going crazy, that his cybernetics weren't fucking with his head and heart. Miniscule, fragile fingers closed around his and he felt tears fall down his cheeks. He put his arms around the twig - around Groot, trying very hard not to accidentally crush him - and held his best friend for fear that he might suddenly turn back into just a twig. "I love you." he whispered, just in case Groot had forgotten he'd told him that before he'd died. "It's so fucking good to see you, Groot."

"Rocket?"

They were all looking at him with deep concern. Quill looked downright alarmed. Rocket released Groot and turned around the pot so they could see him. "Look. Groot! He came back!"

Peter stared in amazement, his eyebrows almost reaching his hairline. "Holy shit! He's really back!"

Gamora bent forward and smiled at Groot. "We're so glad you're back."

"Hello, friend." Drax called.

Groot simply looked around at them all. He looked very confused and put his hand by his mouth, until he got to Rocket. Then he smiled, a big, huge smile and raised his arms up again. "Am... Am..." His newly tiny features creased in a frown as the words he wanted to speak wouldn't come. "Am!"

"It's okay." Rocket rubbed his back with the pads of his fingers. "You'll get there, buddy. You'll be able to speak again soon, I'm sure of it."  
Groot wriggled underneath his touch and looked up at him with eyes that were just as full of love as before. Rocket figured he was probably due some water and slid from his seat, the pot held safely in his arms. "I'm gonna take care of you just like you took care of me for the past five years, buddy." he told Groot as he made his way to the kitchen area. He pushed Groot's pot onto the unit and jumped up to join him. He grabbed the faucet and tested the temperature of the pouring water before lessening the flow until only droplets came out. Groot's tiny hands grabbed the nozzle and his small mouth began suckling as he drank the water down. He finished with a burp and held out his arms, sighing contentedly when Rocket hugged him again. "I missed you, Groot. I can't believe you're actually here. I don't know if you'll remember me telling you this, but before the crash, I told you that I loved you. I love you, man. Don't you ever fucking dare scare me like that again, you hear?"

Groot made a sound that Rocket chose to take as one of agreement. He could hear Quill singing, Gamora and Drax talking. And Groot, his best friend in the whole fucking universe, was leaning against him, making noises that Rocket didn't need to understand the exact meaning of. It had been hell, losing Groot, but now they both had a much bigger forest and that suited him just fine.


	11. Baby Groot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grootiez, this one is for you. You'll be quite happy to know that the next story is going to have lots of Baby Groot in it ;) xx

  
He knew the words he wanted to say. He wanted to say to his daddies and his mommy that he loved them very much. He wanted to tell Daddy Drax that he loved playing Freeze with him. He wanted to tell Mommy 'Mora that he loved the way she would smile at him as if he was the most important thing that ever existed. He wanted to tell Daddy Peter that he loved dancing with him, even though he didn't have legs quite like his yet. He wanted to tell Daddy Rocket that he loved the hugs and the nice words he always got from him.

But his words weren't ready yet. That was what his mommy and daddies always told him every time he got upset with himself for not being able to tell them what he wanted. And they were his parents, so he knew they were right and tried to be patient, but it was very hard, especially when he was hungry or thirsty.

He could hear somebody coming. Somebody on soft feet, not thudding like Daddy Drax, not thumping like Daddy Peter who sometimes danced into rooms, not purposeful like Mommy 'Mora who sometimes looked around like a was a bad man behind her. He burbled happily as he saw Daddy Rocket, straining from his pot as he held up his arms. He loved all of his daddies, but Daddy Rocket was the first face he'd ever seen, the first one to say he loved him, the first one to give him his very first drink of water. "Am.. I am..." 'lo...I lo-lo..."

Daddy Rocket waited but he didn't get upset when nothing else came. "You're getting real close. Don't know what you're trying to say, but I know you'll get there soon, buddy."

Groot sighed, but Daddy Rocket wasn't upset, so he didn't see why he should feel upset. He had some water from the squirty pipette and Daddy Rocket put his pot underneath the special warm lamp. Groot wriggled happily. The sun lamp was his most favourite thing ever, not just because it fed him, but because it felt so nice to be underneath it.

"I know it's not the same as real sunlight, but I'll get Quill to stop off somewhere that has it." Daddy Rocket pressed the round circle underneath the lamp several times. "Soak up your breakfast. I'll be back in three minutes. Love you, buddy."

"Am!" Groot called. 'Da.' He watched Daddy Rocket go, huffed softly and then put his arms back up to absorb the nourishing light.

"I am..." 'Dad.' Close! Very very close! Excitedly, he tried again. "I am Groot." 'Daddy'. He allowed himself a third try and this time, it worked. "I am Groot."

'I love you.'

They were the first words he'd ever heard spoken, after all. 


End file.
